


Assorted Drabbles

by The Key To Imagine (whiskeywit)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:58:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9948941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeywit/pseuds/The%20Key%20To%20Imagine
Summary: Backup of old fic originally posted to the Beatles community JohnheartPaul, currently residing on key_to_imagine, currently in locked status. Note contains the header as is on the LJ post.This entry contains all drabbles, with the drabbles in the bundles as they were originally posted.





	1. Drabble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Drabble  
> Word count: 100  
> Rating: PG  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles, or any of their rights.
> 
> (originally posted pre 28 DECEMBER 2008)

‘’I’m in love.’’  
   
‘’Ah, I’d guessed so.’’  
   
‘’What?’’  
   
‘’Yeah. With Cyn.’’  
   
‘’No! Well. Yeah, I mean, I fancy her. But she’s not the one I meant.’’  
   
‘’... no?’’  
   
‘’No.’’  
   
‘’Who do you mean?’’  
   
‘’You.’’  
   
‘’What? You can’t bleedin’ fancy me!’’  
   
‘’But I do.’’  
   
‘’What did I do then?’’  
   
‘’To make me like you?’’  
   
‘’Yeah!’’  
   
‘’It’s your lips, I s’pose. They look like a bleedin’ bird’s lips!’’  
   
‘’They don’t!’’  
   
‘’No.’’  
   
...  
   
‘’Sit closer.’’  
   
‘’What?’’  
   
‘’Sit closer to me.’’  
   
‘’Why?’’  
   
‘’So I can kiss you.’’  
   
‘’Huh.’’  
   
‘’You want to feel these McCartney lips on yer own, right?’’  
   
‘’Yeah.’’  
   
‘’Then sit closer, now.’’


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Drabble (longer version)  
> Word count: 287  
> Rating: PG  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles, or any of their rights.  
> A/N: Same as the drabble from below, but a little bit longer. Apparently I thought this was post-worthy too, ;).

  
‘’I’m in love.’’  
   
‘’Ah, I’d guessed so.’’  
   
‘’What?’’  
   
‘’Yeah. With Cyn, right?’’  
   
‘’No! Well. Yeah, I mean, I go out with her. I fancy her. But she’s not the one I mean right now.’’  
   
‘’... no?’’  
   
‘’No.’’  
   
‘’Who do you mean?’’  
   
‘’You.’’  
   
‘’What? You can’t bleedin’ fancy me!’’  
   
‘’But I do.’’  
   
‘’What did I do then?’’  
   
‘’To make me like you?’’  
   
‘’Yeah!’’  
   
‘’It’s your lips, I s’pose. They look like a bleedin’ bird’s lips!’’  
   
‘’Er, first of all, I’m not a bird... An’ that’s it?’’  
   
‘’C’mon, Macca! ‘course not. ‘Tis also your eyes and yer hair and so on. Y’know what I mean.’’  
   
‘’Ah. Alright then.’’  
   
‘’Yes.’’  
   
‘’Sit closer.’’  
   
‘’What?’’  
   
‘’Sit closer to me.’’  
   
‘’Why?’’  
   
‘’So I can kiss you.’’  
   
‘’Huh.’’  
   
‘’You want to feel these McCartney lips on yer own, right?’’  
   
‘’Yeah.’’  
   
‘’Then sit closer, now.’’  
   
...  
   
‘’I’m not going to break up with Cyn.’’  
   
‘’Ofcourse not. You love her, right?’’  
   
‘’Yes... But I love your li... er, you more.’’  
   
‘’Do you?’’  
   
‘’But I hadn’t wanted to kiss, ‘t wasn’t what I expected you to do.’’  
   
‘’So...’’  
   
‘’We can’t go on with this. I’m still going ot with Cyn and you just have to find a nice bird, I s’pose.’’  
   
‘’But I want you-’’  
   
‘’You can’t have me. Sorry, Macca.’’  
   
‘’Then why did you tell me in the first place?’’  
   
‘’Because... I didn’t know you loved me.’’  
   
‘’Oh Jesus, John.’’  
   
‘’Hm?’’  
   
‘’You are a right bastard, you are!’’  
   
‘’Hehe, I knew, don’t mind me. I’m not serious half of the time anyway, y’know.’’  
   
‘’Look, we’ll talk or fight about this later, but I gotta go now. Dinner, y’know.’’  
   
‘’But it’s onl- ‘’  
   
‘’My turn to make it. Besides, it’s gunna rain soon anyway.’’  
   
‘’See ya, then, Macca.’’  
   
‘’Bye, John.’’


	3. Catch the Wind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Catch the Wind  
> Rating: PG  
> Word Count: 312  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles and I'm pretty sure I never will, and besides; this is just a work of fiction anyway.   
> A/N: The title was taken from Donovan's song... I more or less (a lot) based this fic on the story the song tells (lyrics can be found here). And you could possibly see this fic as an continuance of Snow Angels (see previous post).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backup of old fic originally posted to the Beatles community JohnheartPaul, currently residing on key_to_imagine, currently in locked status. Summary contains the header as is on the LJ post.
> 
> Originally posted pre 28 DECEMBER 2008.

Catch the Wind

 

In the middle of the cold and lonely nights, shortly after the 8th of December, Paul often wished he was with John. Holding him, and talking to him because they shared so many memories and feelings. 

Catching the wind would be easier. 

He'd been looking at sundown, the sky fading from colourful to pale. Thinking back of John's smile, he felt frustrated by how much he missed the man his humour. Thinking back of his eyes, Paul missed the look of understanding, the one that had given him so much comfort, once, a long time ago. 

He wanted to be with him, to love John, and it hadn't been until now that he realised how happy it would make him, how sweet love could be, even if it meant he was with a man.   
And still, he knew trying to catch the wind would be a lot easier.

The snow that had fallen on the day of John's death was starting to melt, dripping from the leaves like they were tears. He sighed, longing for John only so he could take away the fears he was suffering from. To take away the sorrow and pain he was feeling, the grief at this loss.

But most of all, he wanted to be in John's heart – something which had become impossible now because John had gone. It was where he really wanted to be – longed to be even...

He shivered as the wind played up, and he could've sworn he heard it carry John's voice, telling him something important he couldn't understand. For one moment he let himself go, his hands up in the air in a moment of utter frustration – his emotions overtaking him.

Trying to catch the wind.

While he knew it would always slip through his fingers, exactly the same thing that'd happened to John and his' love for each other...


	4. Image

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Image  
> Rating: PG-13  
> Word count: 176  
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the Beatles and I never will. This ‘story’ is 100% fiction, and therefore I wouldn’t dare to claim this has happened for real!  
> A/N: I haven’t really tried to write something like this before, so be kind! XD Honestly - it’s boredom making me write things like this! ;)
> 
> Comments are love

Stepping into the room, self-confidence in his pace  
Paul stood in front of John, judgment awaiting  
Then John caught him with his eyes, a persistent gaze  
He brought up his hand, cupped the other’s face.

They told each other they looked good  
Bodies pressing flush against each other  
The hot frenzied touching reflecting their mood  
Mouths locked together, pants on the floor.

Then together they lay down on the bed  
Their limbs tangled, they were one together  
Feelings grown stronger since they first met  
Only the two of them knowing, no-one else yet

The urge to be together, to just simply belong  
It had been present since that very first day  
The friendship slowly grown into a love song  
Having to confess, they had known it all along.

After giving in, their needs fed for at least some time  
Their bare naked bodies still entangled together  
Their breathings matched like a loving rhyme  
They put their heads to rest, to sleep was truly fine

And then all that was left behind  
One perfect image  
In my mind


	5. Bye Bye Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Bye bye, love.   
> Rating: PG   
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles! And this certainly didn't happen for real.   
> A/N: I was listening to the song Bye Bye Love (in this case) by the Everly Brothers (lyrics here) and found myself to be inspired to write a little drabble. This consists of an exact amount of 100 words.

His eyes were red - swollen from tears, his head felt as though filled with thick dots of cotton and clouds, and all he'd done so far, today, was sitting and staring into empty distance. No moving, no thinking, and certainly not about all the good times they'd had. Feeling lost, that's what he did. Just because yesterday, his once-upon-a-time partner Paul McCartney had announced the Beatles would split up.

 

He didn't mind the split, but losing Paul out of sight like this - no bloody way John Lennon was ready to cope with that. 

 

If ever at all.


	6. Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Show   
> Rating: PG  
> Word Count: 202  
> A/N: Nothing but a tiny ficlet. I hope you like it, it's a bit of experimenting.
> 
> Comments are nice x

Show

He was watching John standing on the stage, staring in his eyes; perform. 

His fingers, they were touching the strings like they were frail, about to break. He would be pressing the keys of a keyboard, or piano carefully, and quick, uncertain; like they were made of ice, melting if the warmth of his hands would linger a moment too long. 

On those moments especially it looked like he cared for music – not only hearing, or making it, but also for as far he could touch it, almost caressing his instruments like they were so vulnerable – a lot like the man himself. 

In the mean time John would be staring into Paul's eyes, revealing his true self to a pair of big, brown lookers, and the man behind the second pair of eyes, the onlooker, only he knew what John really was like back in the days, and knew what was going on behind the so-called windows of the soul.

Paul never thought about it on stage, though. He could only hear the deafening screams in his ears, see the way John's eyes were shining because he did what he had to do, and was where he belonged: next to Paul.


	7. In For The Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: In For The Music   
> Rating: R (sexual situation implied)  
> Word Count: 401  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles and I am perfectly sure this has never happened for real.  
> A/N: A bit like something I wrote before... but different. I fancy to think of this as a bit artsy. Or, eh. Something like that. It's strange and I don't know if any of you'll understand it xD.

In For The Music  
  
  
A hot afternoon, standing on stage and feeling the songs they wanted to play, singing into each others eyes, and pretending to know what they were doing. The words were only there because there were no songs without something being said, but they were in it for just the music. The music and the other's eyes.  
  
Packing up the guitars, or really just swinging them over their shoulders and holding it by the neck, walking side by side over the pavement. Talking in excitement about the music they played and forgetting about the eyes, waiting for the bus to arrive.  
  
Paying for the bus fares, the both of them sitting down but each on the other side of the aisle, instrument against the chair next to them, their faces turned to look out of the window next to their seats, each on their own side and not looking at the other.  
  
Arriving at the bus stop near one of their homes, they both got out of the sweltering warm space, sweating and complaining, carrying their instruments over their shoulders once again. Tight jeans-clad legs and leather-clad backs, sticking to their skin. There were secret glares, shared while walking over grey pebbles and green weeds, patches of grass, and who could possibly know why they liked it so much to stare into the other's eye?  
  
Once safely surrounded by four brick walls, a door and a stairway that lead to one of their rooms, they dumped the wood and strings, the instruments unnecessary as there was no time or space for music now.  
  
Running up the creaking steps, hastily, they got rid of the leather on their shoulders and the jeans on their hips, the shirts following suit and after their pants eventually, only then there were lips touching and bodies clashing together on the bed.  
  
Afterwards the stares were still there but a thousand times more awkward, the space between them filled with silence, and backwards undressing so each of them could pretend everything was back to normal. Then it was stepping down the creaking steps, one of them picking up his instrument and swinging it over his shoulder, while the other stayed behind, waving his hand at the leather clad shoulders and jeans clad hips, the wood behind his back ... the music he was in for and the last thing was what he ultimately loved most; his eyes.


	8. One Man Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: One Man Band  
> Rating: PG  
> Word Count: 495  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles, or their rights, and I never will unless I become very rich (which is unlikely). Along with this I'd like to add that this is all a work of fiction, an outcome of my chaotic mind, and only to be served for pleasure and a nice way to spend some time, not to make other people believe John and Paul were involved in a sexual relationship. (Do you like this disclaimer? *waggles eyebrows*).  
> A/N: No, no Maxwell Institution yet. Let's say... I haven't been in the right frame of mind and much prefer something else right now (one-shots). Anyway, about this fic; I've been toying with the idea of “Us and Them” for some time now, but eventually I didn't manage to write a story using the title and just that idea. Maybe one day I will, but for now I'll leave it like this. A bit based on it, though, the beginning especially. And the ending? You will see/read. :)  
> A/N2: I'm not too sure how I think about this myself. I kind of like it and I hope you will too.  
> Comments are appreciated. I hope you like it. x

One Man Band  
  
  
It was always us and them – us _against_ them you may want to say. That was before. It was us against the rest because we knew how the other felt about the world and because we were sure we would make it, while the others wouldn't, we were so fucking sure of it that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. And partly, because we thought of ourselves as so much better.  
  
After that it was the band against the rest – us against the crowds that wanted to suffocate us, drown us in their shouts and screams, their excitement too much for us really. It was us against the hysteric fans, our music against noise and jelly beans. Our looks opposed to the Stones', one may even say. And because we thought of ourselves as so much better.  
  
Eventually, or at the end of our career, it wasn't us anymore. Not us as in “me and him” at least, it became us as in “one with lawyer”. Us against them, in which them was another one with another lawyer, battling each other and fighting in the studios, a time of not speaking to each other or only indirectly, a time of never feeling quite comfortable with each other because we grew apart. Because we thought our own interests were more important.  
  
Then, another 'eventually' followed.  
  
The people always think of me as a solo artist, or with a new and different and perhaps even improved band. Some people like us, me and the band, better now than back in the Beatles' heyday. Some people now dislike us, me and the band or the other and his band, and others do like us but still beg for the Beatles to come back.   
  
However, none of them ever sees the way I feel.  
  
When I'm on stage, and I look to my side – I don't see him. I imagine I do, though, I wished everything could be the way it was before, but you can't change history; I know and I am sure he knows too. I feel lonely, though, with his presence not there, an empty space on the stage I'm standing, and no eyes to look at, no body by my side with an instrument mirroring mine, no microphone between us, no mouth nearing mine, singing along in unison.   
  
I have to say, I dislike him but I'm lonely without him. I miss him even though I don't want to. Because even though I do have a band, it still feels like I'm alone, worth nothing much without him. Because I feel lonely and cold inside, without him by my side, without him to correct me when I'm making a mistake, without him to laugh at when he makes a mistake, without him in my life at all.  
  
Because I feel like I'm playing in nothing more than an one man band, one person on stage with a guitar in his hand.  
  
Because I miss him.


	9. Something Futile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Something Futile  
> Rating: PG  
> Word count: 99  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles. This is 100% fictional.  
> A/N: Another experimental drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Backup of old fic originally posted to the Beatles community JohnheartPaul, currently residing on key_to_imagine, currently in locked status. Summary contains the header as is on the LJ post.
> 
> Originally posted 30 JANUARY 2009

Sometimes it took a lot for him to see everything, or even a little part of the entire picture.  
  
Sometimes he couldn't even see it at all. Everything became too big, or too complicated, and his mind shut down because there was too much input.   
  
  
  
Sometimes, it took a scrap of paper with a familiar handwriting that told him three small words, three words that wouldn't have meant a lot to anybody else, not those three words that told 'look at me'.   
  
  
And one time, it took him four words to gain some more certainty; 'do you love me?'


	10. Starting Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Starting Over  
> Rating: G  
> Word count: 100  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles. This is 100% fictional.  
> A/N: Because of a conversation I had with eppic earlier today. I hope you like it.
> 
> Originally posted 05 FEBRUARY 2009

They had been trying, and they had been trying their very best. They got the detritus out of their way, so they could make a fresh start – once again. And as they moved along the line, everything seemed to be turning out fine.  
  
As they had been cleaning, they weren't very careful – only removing the superficial matters. The pictures and the letters that had been exchanged the years before; pretending that with the dirt, the tension that had been building between them for years had also been washed away.  
  
Then the sword of Damocles came down, fast onto their heads.


	11. Smoking Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Smoking Hot  
> Rating: PG-13 (implies a sexual situation)  
> Word Count: 565  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles, this story is purely fictive and written for enjoyment of others as well as myself.  
> Beta: gloigloi  
> A/N: An one-shot, because it still had to be written, I was in the mood, and didn't really feel like writing chapterfic. Enjoy and leave a comment if you feel like it.
> 
> Orginally posted 18 FEBRUARY 2009

Smoking Hot  
  
  
  
John was watching. Watching in the dark. Watching through his glasses with their heavy black frame on his nose, and with a crystal clarity of his eyesight - something he didn't experience often. He disliked wearing these aforementioned, and much needed, glasses.  
  
He watched the soft lips closing around the filter of a cigarette, a chest moving up to inhale the smoke and moving down during the exhalation. The smoke formed a thin cloud, circling up into the air, fading as it was climbing higher and growing colder. For a moment John was distracted by the beauty of this idea – everything seemed so fragile for a split second – but then his attention snapped back to what he was watching, a soft chuckle was what caught his thoughts back again. Brown eyes were studying him, big and questioning, but all he did was shrug – lifting his shoulders up into the same air in which the smoke was fading, a few times a minute or so.   
  
He watched as the cigarette slowly grew smaller, lungs that were tugging the smoke out of the tobacco still, and he watched as the filter grew a bit moist – a light shimmer over it when the lips withdrew every once in a while. The ashes crumbled off the tip, falling, and trying to make their way to the cold concrete of the street they were standing in, but they never made it – blown away by the wind that made him, and he supposed Paul as well, feel like their bodies were freezing. He saw the end light up every time the lips closed around the filter, a mixture of yellows and oranges, an occasional spark of red, and then there was the grey and black of burnt tobacco, and the brown of the tobacco that was yet to be smoked.   
  
He watched, even though his own cigarette was burning up between his fingers, while he'd hardly smoked from it at all. His urge for nicotine wasn't present – maybe because he'd been smoking a fair amount earlier that day, or maybe because there was something far more interesting to watch.   
  
He watched as the cigarette butt was dropped to the floor, long fingers letting go of it, and instead reaching up to John's cheek. There were shifty looks around, and the drop of another cigarette – John's own – as his face was pulled forwards to the lips he'd been staring at before, as his mouth connected with them, and hot breath still smelling of the smoke from before hit his skin and entered his nose, dark and overwhelming, making his head feel heavy and his muscles tremble, arousing and exciting and so new but familiar yet at the same time.  
  
And he didn't stop watching, even after he re-opened his eyes and saw the familiar dirty-white ceiling. The images, however fake they were, were burnt into his mind and they wouldn't let go of him anymore, not even as he wiped his hand on a tissue and sighed deeply as he pulled his blankets back over his body, cooling down rapidly as he started to notice the cold air in his bedroom, and the picture of Brigitte by his bed, and Paul's packet of fags, which had been left behind – forgotten - and which had been providing the food for his imagination this night.


	12. Mon Ami de Coeur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Mon Ami de Coeur  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 100  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles and this is only a figment of my imagination.  
> A/N: The title is French for 'my best friend' - or possibly 'the friend that's closest/dearest to my heart'. Written for the plot “platonic love”. I haven't actually used the word itself in my ficlet, but it is based on the two words anyway.
> 
> Originally posted 24 FEBRUARY 2009

  
  
  
They are standing there, side-by-side on the beach. Their eyes turned towards the horizon, the sun that is starting to hide itself behind the sea, dark blue with a silver flicker upon – a reflection of the sun. There is the warm sand underneath their bare feet, the cold and salty water that sometimes is coming up far enough to tickle their toes and make them shiver.  
  
And there are the fingers of their hands, entangled, and the eyes that sometimes leave the beautiful scenery for something better, and their two hearts that beat in unison – an everlasting love.


	13. Keep on Running (Keep on Hiding)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Keep on Running (Keep on Hiding)  
> Author: Didzease  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 100  
> A/N: I first wrote this, and although I was far above the word count necessary for drabbles, I did find it quite funny that the symbol count was 909. Along with this – I would love to meet Paul and tell him to, for once, tell the truth *is a bit frustrated, yes*. In other words – I think he has never stopped doing what I made him do in the drabble.

With the clouds thick and grey, high above their heads, with rain that kept on falling, they ran. The cobblestones beneath their feet wet and slippery, and they still ran, hopefully leaving the fans miles behind them but in reality only managing hundred yards maximum. The soles of their feet falling into a repetitive cadence, colliding with the cobblestones.

And, finally swallowed by a brick building with four walls, providing safety, even when the others could find their moments of rest... Paul never stopped running, being chased by his emotions, feelings faster than their fans, and sometimes faster than him.


	14. Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Destiny  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 100

For a while now, they felt it.  
  
In _everything_.  
  
It was in the buzz of excitement, that lingered upon their steadily growing crowds. There were the shouts, first quiet and afar, but coming closer now.   
  
It was in the way people talked to, and about them.   
  
It was in how they pulled over the car, stopping by the side of the road, how they were for the first time listening to their song playing on the radio.  
  
But above all, it was in their guts and their hearts, and in the strong belief that they were actually busy making _it_.


	15. vertigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Vertigo  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 100  
> A/N: Quite possibly set in any era, really, so read it set in the time you think fits best.

Intoxicated. 

That was what John was, laying on his bed with closed eyes. The curtains were still opened, because the night was dark and the rain fell. The rough sound of the water rapping against the window, and the lightening that blinded him ever so often.

But the vertigo wasn't just the booze.

The taste of emotion was still heavy upon his tongue, making him feel like he was drowning, the flavour of his own tears not quite washed away, even though it should be after the copious amounts of alcohol he'd consumed.

 

John's only reason to cry was loneliness.


	16. Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Photograph  
> Rating: PG  
> Word Count: 125  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles, this is a work of pure fiction.  
> A/N: For my personal prompt “photograph” and a little bit because beagle_agent has said this somewhere in the comments to lukinha_jesus's post of a while back (you know, the one about your favourite J/P picture): “I wonder if he kissed that picture like I did with my Beatles posters when I was a kid lol. I decided it was a fantastic plot for a fic.

  
  
Photograph  
  
[](http://s289.photobucket.com/albums/ll202/Pity_of_the_Year/?action=view&current=inspiration.jpg)  
Which it is all about  
  
  
  
There was a story behind the picture on John's studio's wall. Something meaningless to others, and something meaningful to him still, something worth to keep secret – although he didn't know about Paul.   
  
Not anymore, at least. Those days were gone.  
  
A certain kind of comfort hid behind the monotonous black and white of the picture, in the pose that reminded him of those days in an unique way, mostly because it captured _everything_ what he and Paul once were, but not anymore.   
  
Sighed quietly, as he remembered the days when they were still writing together and not separate in their home studios.   
  
Whispered an even softer “I miss you”  
  
And with that, John stole a quick kiss off a younger Paul's paper lips.


	17. 10x10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: 10 genres, 100 words.  
> Word count: Huh well. 100.  
> Rating: PG (implied actions)  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Beatles. This is but a work of fiction.  
> A/N: A writing meme I've seen done quite a lot in other fandoms. You're being given ten different genres, and for each genre you have to write a ten-word story. I decided to include a poll, so you can vote which story I will write a longer version of.
> 
> Orginally posted 05 DECEMBER 2009

  
1\. **Angst:**  
“Oh leave me!” John screamed, panicking, when Julia died.  
  
  
2\. **AU:**  
They realised, after their final chance, fame would never come.  
  
  
3\. **Crack!fic:**  
“ILU John!” Paul shouted loudly during the rooftop concert.  
  
  
4\. **Crossover:** (BBC's Merlin)  
“Look!” John shouted, “magic!”  
  
Paul joined; “execute!”  
  
  
5\. **First Time:**  
“I think I am slightly drunk,” Paul confessed, giggling.  
  
  
6\. **Fluff:**  
Sunlight shone through the window, and Paul kissed auburn hair.  
  
  
7\. **Humour:**  
“Too bad you have broken the bed,” Paul snorted.  
  
  
8\. **Hurt/Comfort:**  
Paul sat down, hugging, and John cried his eyes out.  
  
  
9\. **Smut:**  
Sweaty on stage. Sweatier off stage, up against a wall.  
  
  
10\. **UST:** (Unresolved Sexual Tension)  
John awoke, with Paul in the other bed. He sighed. 


End file.
